Saturday, September 1, 2012

It's because the tailgates start at 7 am. Are you joking? Nope. They aren't.

Dear Patrick,
Oh, we have things to discuss. So many things. Let's begin.

Nearly one month ago I moved for the one millionth time this summer. One million moves. Nothing makes you hate everything like moving one million times can. But this should be the last of them. This is also the most serious move. I now live full-time in Lincoln, Nebraska. Feels so right. Feels so weird. I (thankfully) have two solid weeks of grad school under my belt now. Given the state of my brain and the weight of the new parts of my Lincoln life and the number of pages of Freud I've had to read, this feels like a bigger accomplishment than it sounds. Especially the reading part. (Jayme, if you're reading this, I'm still pretty mad that you didn't get me to a sixth grade reading level like you promised). The school is a gem. A true diamond in the rough. A diamond on the prairie. My fellow printmaking grads are made only of magic and have sparkly hearts. I don't know if I would be quite as happy right now if I didn't have a few key people in my new life. They're little life-savers. And I could not be more excited or more scared to get this printmaking show on the road. Get ready, America. I'm making prints now. Not frames. Not perfectly folded piles of Gap Vnecks. Just prints and artist books and all kinds of other nonsense from my brain. Yesssss.

Margot and I live in the ghetto part of Lincoln. But the walls in my apartment are real pretty and I only have a 10 minute bicycle commute. But it's also an extra 10 minute scramble with my bike up and down my skinny, creaky stairs because if you think for one second I'm leaving my best bike out there with all the trash blowing in the wind of cigarette smoke and the plethora of greedy hands, you're just wrong. I do sincerely like it here in the ghetto. It's another new place to put on my list of strange places I've lived. A step up, even. And living alone? Dream come true. I love coming home to the food I've bought. I love that no one leaves raw chicken on the counter. And I love that no one I live with is a Finnish man or in a sorority or 40 something years old and braless. This list of the perks of one bedroom living could go on and on and on, but I'll stop there. Lincoln is another surprising little gem. Who knew Nebraska could be cool? I sure didn't. But I'm not sad that it is.

My heart was sad to leave Utah. That's no secret. I was sad to cut off my newly-formed Salt Lake City existence at the bud. But I think I will be happy here. At least for a while. And as long as I can safely leave the city on Husker home game days. Dear football fans, I sincerely understand none of what you choose to be.

Bahaha. I love this. I am so happy you are loving Nebraska! and I bet you are going to have big football player biceps from carrying that bike up and down. Then maybe you will have something to talk about with them.